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Rolan takes a moment to look over the paper thrust into his hand and his eyes squint taking in the scratching on the page. The nature of the language is just on the tip of his mind, but Rolan is unable to decipher the words on the page. Rolling up the paper quickly and putting it in his pack, Rolan looks back up and gives a non-committal shrug of his shoulders "I will need more time to decipher this page. How about the strongbox or the hatbox?"
Byron brandishes the set of keys and gives a wink.
"I dare say that we might have the right key here. I will search the strongbox before opening it, though... I would not put it past Lamm to have trapped it..."
Once he is satisfied that it is not trapped, he will try the keys until he finds the right one...
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Making a thorough search of the box now that you have the time to do so with Lamm's cooling body still laying precariously close to the edge of the waters, Byron finds no traps with the lock, gently opening it, he finds a treasure trove of small items wrapped in cloth and tied in twine. As he begins to sift through it all, the group discovers an extensive collection.
The treasures include a narrow teak cigar case inlaid with tiny bits of jade, a 2-pound gold ingot bearing the Cheliax coat of arms, a miniature gold crown, a fist-sized scrimshaw carving of a kraken with garnets for eyes, a silver ring bearing the inscription “For Isolde—the light in my nights,” a highly realistic and highly scandalous ivory figurine of two entwined succubi, a masterwork shuriken, an adamantine arrowhead, an abalone-shell holy symbol of Shelyn, a tiny glass tube containing a dose of oil with the label keen edge, an obsidian wand, a crystalline vial containing a dose of silversheen, and a bejeweled brooch with a broken clasp.
Even to an untrained eye, this brooch is obviously the most valuable object in the entire collection. The circular gold brooch depicts a pseudodragon and an imp coiled around each other in an almost yin-yang pattern. The pseudodragon’s eye is an amethyst, while the imp’s eye is an emerald.
And while you look over this bounty of items, an ill scent comes from the hatbox, where the flies continue to buzz incessantly around it.
Kur-Awk, curious at the awful smell, opens the hatbox.
Turning his attention to the contents of the box, Richter focuses his senses, detecting magic on any of the objects within and trying to identify what he sees.
Spellcraft(oil to make sure)
Spellcraft(wand)
Spellcraft(in case anything else is magical)
Spellcraft(in case anything else is magical)
Richter wrinkles his nose slightly at the hatbox, giving a shake of his head "Be careful, my large friend. I can only imagine the sort of things that Lamm would keep as a prize..."
Seeing the name on the ring, a moment of sadness crosses his face as he lifts it up and offers it somberly to Alynbrand. "I... I believe this is yours. I am sorry."
Rolan moves to join Richter in detecting magic on the treasures they have discovered. His hands produce a single rune from his pouch and he holds it steadily before him while speaking quiet words in the harsh language of his fathers.
Alynbrand examines the ring, his look grim.
He stalks over to Lamm's body while drawing his sword. He pulls the corpse up and addresses it - living eyes to dead ones. He growls, "You got off easy."
He tosses the corpse towards a corner, away from the water's edge, and hews off the head with a single stroke as it falls. He wipes the blade on a scrap piece of cloth before re-sheathing it. Alyn looks at the ring for awhile, silently debating what to do with it. He places the ring on the only finger in will fit - his pinky.
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While Alynbrand deals with Lamm's body and Byron continues to look over the items in the lockbox, Kur-Awk steps over to the hatbox and brushes away the flies before lifting open the lid. A shocking sight greets the large man as his eyes take in the sight of a familiar woman. Zellara’s severed head, poorly preserved and decorated with unsightly makeup in a crude attempt to give her sagging flesh the semblance of life, sits inside the hat box. Looking up with wide open eyes in a rictus of horror, a faint scream seems to resound through the room in the back of everyone's mind as Kur-Awk recoils from the hatbox with an exclamation of surprise. A smaller wooden box sits inside under the stump of her neck.
Heal
Richter starts a bit as the box is open, raising a hand to pull his shirt to cover his mouth and nose from beneath his armor. His brow furrows as he sees the head, glancing towards the others with some confusion "That isn't a fresh death. Lamm didn't strike at her while we traveled here. She's been gone some time. Were we tricked? Lamm deserved his death, but I don't like the idea of doing some rivals dirty work."
Alyn offers a terse alternative, "Revenant?"
Rolan looks up from his work examining the collected treasures of Lamm just in time to see the opening of the box containing their hostess’s head. An eyebrow raises up as he moves over to examine the head. Himself. After hearing Richter’s diagnosis he extends one hand and gently pulls the smaller box from the stump of her neck. He attempts to open the box and examine both it and whatever it may contain. All the while he tries to figure out the combination of spells which might create the event that caused them all to be set upon this path. His brow’s furrow in thought as a frown creases his face. Munin moves from his shoulder and flies around the room before attempting to land on Kuw Awk’s head.
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Pulling out the blood soaked and stained box, the wood showing thin streaks of it's original hue under the blood, Rolan finds the box easily opened only to find an equally curious sight inside. The box contains the cards of a Harrow deck, with card-backs and images exactly the same as the one's each of you received and saw the apparently deceased Zellara shuffling in her home on 3 Lancet Street. Passing a runic stone over the contents of the box you find that there is a moderate amount of divination magic passing through the cards though it seems dormant for now.
Midway through inventorying the items from the large chest, Byron cannot help but glance over at the awful stench that emanates from the hat box when it is opened. A shiver passes down his back when he sees Zellara's head.
Were we dealing with a ghost?
However, his eyes widen when he see the deck of cards, and he immediately stops what he is doing to move over, and carefully sort through the cards, lovingly cleaning them.
A deck like that deserves to be well cared for.
Kur-Awk hands the head to Rolan, less disgusted by the sight than most would be, being from a tribe devoted to the care of the dead. "So, the woman who told us of Lamm is dead? Or was dead? Or is not dead, but has a twin sister? Kur-Awk is confused, but happy Lamm is sent to painful afterlife where imps will eat his privates."
"Kur-Awk is confused, but happy Lamm is sent to painful afterlife where imps will eat his privates."
Richter raises his brow slightly at Kur-Awk "Right. I have little doubt he is there and deserves to be. Until we know if this was some sort of ghost, a trap, a vengeful spirit or anything else we should be on our guard. The deed is done and each of us had our reasons. Now we just must find out the reason behind the one who gathered us here. If they too sought vengeance I can understand this, if it is some competitor of Lamms who simply thought to use our pain to take his place I am not alright with being a pawn."
Even as he speaks grimly Richter's body language speaks heavily of lightening, a slight smile touches his face and the tired, hung-over eyes clear some. Coming after Lamm brought up too many dark thoughts and kept him serious and focused, but with the man's death and knowing that no more lives will be shattered at his hands that tension fades away letting more of his personality come through. Even not knowing just what their 'benefactor' has in store for them is a relief in comparison.
Richter glances to Byron and sees the loving way he holds the cards before glancing towards the others. "With the lady dead, perhaps you should hold onto those? It seems her only other heir was already lost to Lamm. You obviously seem to hold a respect for them."
Byron nods absentmindedly as he continues to caress the cards.
"It would be an honor to look after these, at least until we find someone who has a better claim to them than I."
Hearing the chatter of some of the others, however, he manages to focus, with difficulty, on other matters.
"I agree, we should work out the nature of our 'informant'. For the moment, however, I am content to box-up everything of value that we have discovered here, and take the children (if any have stayed) to a safe location. I would definitely then be interested in going back to the house where we met 'Zellara' to look for clues."
Rolan carefully considers what is said around him as he gently puts the head down back into the box. "I would be happy to return home with those things we think may be magical in nature. After furthur study I am sure that I can identify them. That Brooch, in particular, tugs at my mind. I get the feeling that it is something important and would like to study it more. After a day or so we can meet at a cafe near my family's shop and discuss how to split everything up. Any objections?
Kur-Awk makes a harumphing noise. "Splitting doesn't make Kur-Awk feel good. Better to find out if dead woman is dead first."
Richter nods in agreement at Kur-Awk. "I agree with our large friend. Treasures aren't what any of us came here for, and while I don't have any qualms about splitting up his ill gotten gains since I doubt we could trace them anyway, I would prefer if we find just who or what sent us here as soon as possible. I think that the kids need to come first and be given shelter, assuming they haven't scattered, but then I would hope we could see what we could learn at the home we met at before about what happened to Zellara and who we spoke to before. With those matters done, I would have no problem exploring the treasures."
Rolan shrugs his shoulders. "I don't disagree on any one point. I suppose you have a few thoughts about what can be done with the head? I have an idea about what happened to the body, and that of her son." Rolan looks pointedly at the hole leading towards the water. "Either way we had best move quickly. You don't want to be here when the watch finally showes up. Dead old men and the heads of women don't go over very well." Suiting actions to words Rolan begins to pack up the items that they have found. unless stopped by someone he also gathers up the brooch, wrapped in a dirty scrap of clothing taken from the room, and places it into his pouch.
Byron nods.
"I agree, we should leave, and soon. As I have said, I would prefer to get the children somewhere safe first, and then investigate who exactly our benefactor was. We can sort-out the splitting of the loot we have found after that."
"Kur-Awk cares not for loot. Kur-Awk is happy Lamm is dead and being devoured by the angry souls of those he killed. Kur-Awk will help herd children. Then Kur-Awk goes to find the dead-not-dead woman with cookies." With this, Kur-Awk returns to the way they came down and begins climbing up.
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With the finality of your actions behind you, the group ascends back up the fishery to gather up the children. While a small few have left, most have stayed and the same young man who stepped forward at first is still there, ready to lead the younger children out from their nightmare. Sitting still in the chair you tied him up is Hookshanks, a sharp neck wound drawn across his lifeless cooling body. Moving out quickly with the children in tow, your group finds the night still in full force. With the stars hanging overhead in a surprisingly bright night, any clouds that might have been around before are gone now. The moon hangs half full over head but shines brightly making your passage through the city easy enough. Setting up the children in an orphanage run by Sarenae's faithful, you leave the children to a hopefully better life.
This activity takes all of you long enough that the first possible hint of sunlight begins to gleam over the horizon, and that is when all hell seems to break loose. In the distance several fires begin to sprout up all over the city, smoke rising up to meet the first rays of the sun. The frantic clang of alarm bells begin to toll across the city, mixing with a multifarious cacophony of screams, the clash of steel on steel, moans, and even the periodic detonation of arcane power. Each of you agrees to stick together for the time being, as the safest course of action, and press deeper into the city back towards Zellara's home.
About half way to Zellara's house a wing of Sable Company griffon riders swoops overhead, angling toward Castle Korvosa at a breakneck pace. One of the badly wounded mounts rains blood down on the street around you before it succumbs and crashes headlong into a statue, taking its rider and itself to a bone-crunching demise. The others in the flight do not pause to check on their fallen ally. Amid the chaos around you, the voice of a Korvosan herald cuts through the din: “The king is dead! Long live the queen!” only to be shouted down by ragged cries of “Hang the queen!” and “The usurper whore must die!” Through an alleyway, each of you even spots a contingent of hellknights clad in dark iron armor and horned helms pursuing a small gang of what appear to be looters. However each of you reacts to this apparent information is up to you but the mystery of Zellara's apparent death still remains.
The city has apparently gone mad while you battled with Gaedren Lamm and got the children to safety but your experiences living on the streets of Korvosa has taught you enough to avoid the worst of it, and you find yourselves back at 3 Lancet Street. The street is still relatively quiet for now, though the sounds of the riots in the streets do seem to be getting closer by the moment. The outside of the house is even more dilapidated than when you first saw it.
"Hm. Kur-Awk is confused. King is dead. Queen is whore. Fortune-telling woman is dead not dead in old house. Stupid city. Kur-Awk have drink." Kur-Awk pulls the clay jug from his belt and takes a long pull. He then grins widely. "Lamm is dead. Leah is avenged. Kur-Awk is happy drunk once again."
Rolan's eyebrow moves up upon his brow as he looks through the apparently abandoned and ransacked house. Reaching into his pouch he brings forth a blank rune-stone and speaks softly invoking the power of the blank rune. As he studies the results of his spell his mind thinks back to his years studying at his old school. Surely there is something that can explaim how this was managed. Perhaps an elaborate illusion? While his brain thinks on these two tasks a third part of it addresses the status of the crowd. "A new Queen eh? Big deal I say. More taxes and then everything will be back to normal."
Richter looks slowly around the room, scratching at his chin as he does. "Definitely some sort of magic was at play here. Quite an elaborate ruse though, you would think it would have been easier to simply find a house that was recently lived in rather than spell up an illusion to give this place the appearance of it."
He shrugs his shoulders a bit before glancing back out towards the various heralds and then over to Kur-Awk. "You have any more of that, my friend? Sounds quite like its going to be needed. You may shrug off the idea of more taxes, Rolan, but I suspect if thats the case then this cities walls will shake until the people settle down again. Increasing taxes will incite the poor, appeasing the poor will spark the nobles and those who profit from the bureaucracy. Either way, a change in leaders is going to be a point for the city to 'air its grievances'. May want to bunker down for a bit."
Byron nods.
"I fear that things will get worse before they get better. It is probably a very good thing that we managed to secure those poor children in a bastion of relative safety..."
Turning his attention to the state of the 'Zellara's' house, he cannot help but be impressed, and more than a little bit disturbed...
Whatever Mage was responsible for this must be powerful indeed.
Byron will cautiously approach the house, and then thoroughly search it. Once satisfied that it is 'clear' (although distressingly short on clues), he turns to the others, and comments:
"Perhaps now would be a good time to discuss the items that we recovered from Lamm's lair...?"
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Once each of you has finished their search of the abandoned house, and Kur-Awk and Richter begin to share a drink, Byron hears a click from within his pack, and there is a sudden rush of wind escaping it. The cards of Zellara's Harrow Deck flood out of your pack and swirl to a spot opposite the rest of you, forming a slow moving vertical circle with the cards rotating around a central point. From that point Zellara seemingly steps out, though she is much less solid than you remember her, with an ethereal quality to her nearly transparent skin.
"Yes, I believe you are right Byron. It is time to discuss what you recovered from Lamm's lair."
Zellara gives a brief smile to each of you as she continues, "Thank you for killing that despicable man, and I am sorry for my deception."
Byron takes a step backwards in shock, before smiling nervously, and bowing.
"It was no problem whatsoever; those children deserved to be released from the control of such a monster. However, please forgive me for asking, but what the Devil are you?"
"Hmph. Kur-Awk usually sees things after more drinking. So, fortune teller lady is alive then? As an aside he turns to Richter, Evil twin. Kur-Awk hear this common story in city."
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Zellara holds her smile as she moves closer to Byron. Her hand reaches out as if to touch him but stops short, turning back to see the group as whole.
"I do not know what I am. Some apparition I suppose, I cannot move about freely. You move for me, Byron." Zellara nods towards Byron's pack, which still holds the card case.
"As you might have guessed by now. I was killed many weeks ago by that deranged half-orc while trying to recover my Harrow Deck. In life, I lived by that deck, and in death, I seem to have become it. I can see and hear through the cards, and if any of you are holding a card I can... feel things through them. I can feel the lines of magic running through objects now. The lines seem so much clearer, on this side, than when I was alive. I can even project myself, as I am now, for a limited time each day. I'm still learning all I can do myself."
The ghostly image of Zellara seems to take a deep breath while she collects her thoughts, "Either way, for now it doesn't matter. What does matter is what is happening to Korvosa. With the king dead and a new queen taking the throne, I fear that the cards will bear out their dire warnings. The Cyclone hangs over my beloved Korvosa now, and portents of doom from the Harrow should be heeded. I do not know what will become of Korvosa but I do know that she will need new champions to lead it through these troubling times. I believe that each of you is one of those champions and all of our destinies are tied to Korvosa somehow."
Zellara's image seems to flicker out for a moment before flaring back into existence, as a loud boom is heard from a few blocks away, and a flash of arcane energy lights up the horizon for a moment. The dim roar of clashing riots still fills the early morning air.
Richter listens to the spirits words, raising a brow towards the end of it. His words are simple when the finally come out. "Champions, hm?" With that said he reaches over to take the flask back from Kur-awk and take a swig of it.
Giving a moments more thought, he adds "Korvosa has been very hard on me, but it is my home. I have seen her from all angles and have met her people, both good and bad. I do not know that I have the faith in fortunes that you do, but if the city needs help that I could provide, I would."
DM
Rolan watches the appearance of Zellara with a raised eyebrow. Her words cause an angry frown to cross his face and his eyebrows lower. He takes a single step back as if mere proximity to such words might taint him. ”I’m no ‘champion’ lady. ‘Champions’ have a nasty tendency to wind up dead. If I wanted that I’d have joined my father in the Guard.” He looks around at the others present and shakes his head sharply. ”Look at us. A ragtag bunch of misfits. Yeah, we took on a petty thug and his henchmen. But, when you start throwing around the word ‘champion’ you’re talking real trouble. Real trouble is what the Sable Company is for, and we just saw what is happening to them.” He points towards the doorway towards the rough location where they saw the rider go down.
Rolan’s eyes search his companions, and a conflicted expression crosses his face only to be banished by a smirk. ”Don’t get me wrong. This city is my home; and I look after me and mine. But, I’m nobody’s shinning knight.” With that he rights a fallen chair and takes a seat before going through his pouches and revealing the items that they picked up from Lamm’s hideout. ”This is what we came across. Given time I can identify these myself, but perhaps you can do it faster Zellara? I would take it as a kindness.” This last is said with a grudging edge as if merely saying the words cost Rolan something.
"Kur-Awk fits just fine. Kur-Awk is not champion. Kur-Awk more of a stupid man who got himself thrown out of his tribe. Not much of a champion. But maybe broken city needs broken heroes?"
Byron gives a wry smile.
"A rag-tag bunch of 'heroes' to defend a rag-tag racial melting-pot of a city? There is something poetic about that..."
His face then grows serious.
"However, whenever there is massive political upheaval, it is always the common man (and woman) that suffers the most, whilst lords and ladies fight for a slice of the political pie, or stay safe and secure in their fortress-like homes... I am willing to do what I can to help the people of Korvosa stay safe in this time of trial, although I am uncertain exactly what we can do..."
Byron blinks rapidly when he hears the explosion, and Zellara's image blinks.
"Madame, are you alright? What was that?"
Alynbrand leans against the wall with a frown. "I'm no friend of Chelax rule but this isn't my town. The only fondness I had for this city is buried and her likely murderer is now dead taking any answers with him. And you lied to me, to us... So you're going to need to give me some better reason than your love of Korvosa to get my sword involved in this mess."
Richter chuckles a bit at Kur-awk as the others give their more serious answers, liking the drunkard more all the time. "Broken heroes for a broken city, huh? I wonder who is going to fix whom."
Glancing towards Byron, Richter tries on this whole idea of being a 'hero' in his mind and finds he likes it quite well. "Certainly we cannot deal with matters of succession or of politics, but as you have said in these times it is the common man who suffers because those with the power to deal with those greater woes are focused on them rather than the people. You know those orphans will have a better life at the temple because of us, a dozen lives changed by our deeds tonight, no less the countless others Lamm would have crushed before he finally faded out. I have learned from my time in the church that each deed can carry on through others. We may not be able to establish a fair ruler or adjust taxes to help the common man, but we have shown what we can accomplish together. If we can quiet even a group of people to keep them from losing their life in a pointless protest, or use our resources to get them food, or protect an innocent guard guard from dying at the hands of some vengeful mob whose anger is directed at the monarchy, aren't we being champions of the people? These are things we can do."
To Alynbrand he adds in a softer tone "Your fondness for the city may be buried, but she needn't be gone within you. This city can be a hard place, but she obviously saw something in it that you can find too if you look. I think you know in your heart that she wouldn't wish people like her to suffer because you turned away from them in your mourning. Think of how you would honor her by helping to make her home truly be the place that all Korvosan's dream it could be."
Byron nods in agreement with Richter's words.
"Exactly. I could not have put it better. Leave the 'ruling powers' to sort-out their own messes, whilst we try to do what we can to keep the people safe..."
He then sighs.
"Given the level of anarchy that seems to have gripped the city, I dare say there will be ample opportunities for us to do so..."
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Zellara lets her deep, unsettling eyes take in Alynbrand for a moment. Before she turns to quickly answer Byran's query.
"I'm fine Byron. Whatever has just happened out there sent ripples through... whatever I exist in now."
Turning back to Alynbrand, Zellara lets show the weight of all she has experienced as her ghostly forehead crinkles with her now permanent middle age.
"I don't have an answer for you Alynbrand. Yes, I lied, but I wonder if you would have accepted the truth if I had been honest straight off? I suppose it doesn't matter now, but what does matter is that you cared for your love and have gotten some small sense of justice. I cannot see what drove you here but you are here now and Korvosa is a city worth making a life out of. Even if the city dealt you and me a bad turn, that is simply the Gods decree. Would you walk away from a place like this when you could make a difference? Maybe prevent some other young sellsword the misfortune of losing the woman he loves?"
Allowing Alynbrand to think on that for a moment, she turns to Rolan and tries to smile, but the forced nature of it makes her seem more sad than when she was merely serious.
"I can help yes, though I do not think I could do so many times per day. Perhaps three or so attempts at most. Maybe pick three items for me to assist you with?"
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Zellara indicates for Byron to pull one of the cards out of the rotating swirl that makes up her link to the material plane and press it against the wand. A ripple of electrical energy seems to surge through the card and into Byron's mind. Inside your head is the whispered words of the properties of the wand.
After she is done, her ethereal body slouches forward slightly and she gives the group one last look. "My connection to this world is beginning to fade. I suggest taking your earned reward to a fence. I will be in the cards if you need me."
And with that, her body fades into invisiblity and the rotating cards break apart, flying back into Byron's pack and neatly shuffling themselves into the card case.
Richter nods his head at Zellara as she begins to fade off. "I thank you for your help in that. Do not waste your strength, we will keep your deck safe."
As the cards fully disappear, Richter turns to the others, looking over what they have gathered. "We have found much, and I believe that our hostess may have a good idea. We do not know what the next few days may bring while things settle down, if there are problems, shops may close, if taxes increase, prices could go crazy, we should probably sell what we can, while we can. Can any of you judge the value of some of the jewelery type of items so that we have a better idea of what we can expect the merchants to give us? Also, I have lost many of my contacts from youth, do any of you know someone who we could sell these things to with less questions asked?"
He considers the various items, considering "Some of these seem to be in good shape. If anyone can make use of these things, take them now. We have all certainly earned our pick, and if we are to watch each other's backs, then the better equipped we all are, the better of we will be."
Rolan nods his head, his expression guarded, and he steps forward to examine the valuable items further. Thinking back to his father and grandfather discussing the nature of wealth and various items, as well as working the floor of the store with his sister Rolan does his best to apoximate the value of what they have found.
Byron gives Richter a wink.
"I grew-up on the streets, and have many contacts who might be willing take some of the more... unusual... items we have acquired off our hands. I agree, in these troubled times, we should probably try to get rid of them as quickly as possible."